


You're On

by UnknownSatellite84



Series: Noncontober 2020 [7]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Rhys (Borderlands), Bribery, Cigarettes, Drinking Games, Drunk Sex, Drunken Flirting, Drunkenness, Dubious Consent, Jack being Jack, M/M, Name-Calling, Noncontober 2020, Overstimulation, Rhys is a Lightweight, Sassy Rhys (Borderlands), Smoking, Top Handsome Jack (Borderlands), Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:15:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26939479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnknownSatellite84/pseuds/UnknownSatellite84
Summary: Rhys challenges Jack to a drinking game. Jack doesn't play fair and bribes the bartender to give him soda shots instead.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)
Series: Noncontober 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952530
Comments: 3
Kudos: 41





	You're On

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Noncontober Day 10: Drugged or Drunk sex (just did drunk sex for this one)
> 
> Edit: Omg, sorry, forgot to credit Lost_Elf for providing some of Rhys's drunk mean horny quotes. Thanks for the assistance! :3

“I could drink you into next week!”

“ME?” Jack said incredulously, staring at Rhys’s determined, twinky face. “You want to challenge _me_ , you lightweight, to a _drinking game_?” Rhys could be an idiot, but this was a whole new level, Jack thought.

“Oh, please, you’re a lightweight too, you just won’t admit it. Your old-man liver can’t handle it.”

Jack glared, having to stop himself from shaking Rhys. “Oh you shithead, you’re on. I’ll frickin show you.”

So Jack and Rhys walked into the nearest bar, which probably sounded like a joke to someone who wasn’t either of them. Rhys went up to the bartender to explain before taking a seat at the table. Jack leaned on the bar while Rhys waited. “Hey, clown hair,” Jack said to the bartender, keeping his voice down. Seriously, this guy’s hair was worse than Rhys’s mullet. “I’ll give you enough money to make your wife actually wet for you if you give me soda shots instead.”

The bartender glared for a second, then quickly neutralized his expression. Jack smirked. _Idiot._ “Of course, sir.”

“Oh and, give my...uh, _pal,_ over there the strongest shit you got.” He winked.

Jack went to the table. Rhys was grumpily going through a screen projected from the palm of his hand. _Also Idiot._ If he’d paid attention, he might not be about to spectacularly lose. Well, he would’ve lost either way, but Jack knew this would be even more humiliating for him. The “spectacularly” part was key.

Jack also had to account for the possibility that Rhys had installed some cybernetic tolerance or….something, too. _Who knows._ Jack never let anything go to chance.

“You ready to eat your own words, kiddo?”

Rhys closed the interface. “Oh, you’re gonna be the eating-words-one...” He trailed off. “You know what I mean.”

Jack winked.

The bartender brought the shots, five each, setting Jack’s by Jack, and Rhys’s by Rhys. Jack smirked and sniffed his. “Oooh, smells _strong_ ,” he lied. It was just the light fizz of soda. He shot a quick grin at the bartender.

Rhys grimaced at his, looking like he might already be having second thoughts. Oh, Jack loved this. He knew the stupid kid was too stubborn to give up while he was ahead. “Not too late to back down, kiddo.”

“Nope. We’re doing this.” Rhys knocked the first shot back, groaning as if in pain for a moment. He choked, recovering after a few moments of pained dramatics…. “Oooogh ugh ack, uh...you next, Jack.”

Jack grinned and drank his soda. He sighed pleasantly, leaning back. “Didn’t even feel it.”

Rhys glared and took the next shot, suppressing his cough this time. _Good for him._ Jack easily followed. This wouldn’t take long, he assumed. He was effortlessly owning Atlas, and enjoying it deeply. He hoped there were some secret reporters nearby to catch this. It’d make a great article for the tabloids.

“I don’t even feel it!” Rhys declared, loud and unmistakably lying. “Another round!”

They’d put down...five shots now. Rhys groaned and put his head in the hands. He truly was a lightweight. Jack hadn’t needed to rig this. “Mmmrrrph, Jaccck.” Rhys complained, whining. “Why aren’t you even coughing yetttt?”

“I got the tolerance of a bullymong. Give it up, kiddo. At this rate, you’re gonna get alcohol poisoning. Which would be hilarious, but I don’t feel like dealing with it right now.”

Rhys shook his head, eyes glistening. “Nopppe, I’m not quitting. You’re just hiding how bad off you are. I got you.” He stuck out his tongue.

Jack felt weird and shook his head. “Just shut up. Jesus, you’re an annoying drunk.” 

Two shots later, the bartender gruffly said. “Nope, no more.”

“Commmeee onnnn,” Rhys whined. “Pleeeeease.” He pouted.

“Couple more, bartend,” Jack said. “Let’s go to ten. No one officially loses until they’re dead.” He smiled. 

“Your funeral,” the bartender muttered, leaving to get two more.

Rhys determinedly chugged them both, one after the other. Jack kept right up. At this point Rhys slumped on the table, head lolling, “uuggh, I think- I think-” 

He leaned over and threw up in the nearby bin. “Uggghhh.”

Jack grimaced, but hey, he won. “Think we all saw that coming. Alright, you had a good run, kiddo, but I totally owned your ass. Let’s get you home.” Jack went up to pay. “Give me a real shot now?” He asked in a low tone. The bartender obliged, and Jack sucked it down. Paying the promised extra, Jack turned away and grabbed a very confused-and-sick-looking Rhys, dragging him from the bar.

They moved down the hallways of the Atlas building, making their way to Rhys’s suite. Jack only knew the way because he’d had to have some private threaten sessions with his rival. Only, he’d stopped those because Rhys had started getting weird about them. Rhys’d started thinking they were...uh, a different kind of session.

“Fucck you,” Rhys groaned halfway there. “I woulda won...just gimme another chance.”

“Alright, that’s enough outta you.”

“I swear, Jack. You wouldn’t handle me. You _can’t_ handle me. You must’ve...must’ve cheated.”

They made it to the suite, and Jack maneuvered Rhys to the bedroom. Rhys crooned. “Oooh are we gonna have another _threat session_ , Jack?! Why don’t you just admit you wanna fuck me. Two men can have sex, you know.”

Jack gaped at Rhys. “What.” He was going to come right out and friggin’ say it like that?

Rhys looked him up and down, drunkenly. "Hmm, not sure fucking you would be worth it, though... I mean, how old are you again? Have you heard about doggy? Or any other position than missionary? You know what, I’m so horny, that if you take off your pants and show me that your balls aren't as low as your knees yet, I'll let you fuck me…."

Jack threw Rhys onto the bed at that. He leapt on top of him and leaned over Rhys, wrapping a hand around his neck. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Rhys.”

“Oooh this is sexy…” Jack tightened his grip, meaningfully. Rhys coughed. “D-did I hit a sore spot? Why don’t you make me.” 

“I’m gonna fucking kill you for real.”

“Knew the other times weren’t real!” Rhys laughed.

“And what about this time?”

Rhys grinned. “Even better.”

Where was the shy Rhys? This Rhys was a total bitch. Jack could kill him but… That’d throw off his timetable, lose him money and mess up the deals they had, and it’d be too complicated to deal with the aftermath-

A few thoughts ran through Jack’s head. One, Rhys was literally and truly asking for it. Two, that was definitely a boner in his pants. In his own, too. Three, Rhys would have to face tomorrow knowing he’d lost their game. And four, Jack could really turn this to his advantage. Five, Jack wanted to fuck that stupid smug attitude off of Rhys. Why did he act like he’d won? 

“Alright, Rhys. You’re on, again. I’ll fuck you.”

Rhys nodded. “I'll sleep with you out of pity but you need to promise that you don't shoot off after two minutes!" 

Oh, Jack was going to teach this bitch a lesson. He flipped Rhys over, and Rhys yelped. He squirmed around, and Jack firmly pinned him. Rhys groaned and pushed back. “Hey, hey, Jack,” Rhys said, writhing under him. 

“What?” Jack asked, already regretting it.

“Did you know two men can have sex? Heh heh.”

“No shit, moron.”

Jack undid his pants and didn’t even bother with prep. He did use some lube he carried on his person, slicking up his cock. He pushed into Rhys without even hesitating. Rhys let out a cry. That was better. Rhys was tight and hot around him, and most importantly, less annoying. Jack began rocking his hips.

“Ah _fuck_ , harder, Jack!”

Jack fucked Rhys long and good, taking his time to hear all the noises Rhys made. Rhys made some really good ones. Jack sort of wished he was also a bit drunk, just to add to the fun, but he decided the clarity was better, for this moment. He was showing Atlas his place. He also was just glad to finally shut up all those annoying ass remarks.

Rhys came quicker than Jack, in spite of his sass. He kept whining about it being too much after that, but Jack ignored him. “Jack, please, come on!” He clenched up around Jack, moaning and flushing. 

“You look like a frickin’ virgin, Rhys.” Jack kept up the thrusting until even he was starting to feel it. His thighs were pretty sore. “A frickin’ stupid virgin. But...hot, unfortunately.”

“I’m not a- oh god, Jack, just please, _Jack-_ ” Rhys babbled on.

Oh. That went straight to his dick. Jack hummed and came inside of Rhys, patting his ass cheek almost fondly. “Nah, not a virgin. Too slutty for that, aren’t ya?”

Rhys practically passed out the second Jack pulled out.

* * *

In the AM, Rhys stirred groggily, blinking. The air stank with smoke. 

He darted up and away from the form of Jack sitting next to him puffing on a cigarette. He fell out of bed, yelping in pain when he hit the floor, butt-naked. He dragged the blanket that’d followed him to himself and gaped up at jack. “Jack, what the fuck!” He yelled, then groaned in pain because of his own volume. Oh, his head was going to explode, and he felt nauseated.

Why was he naked, _next to Jack_?

Jack squinted at him, as if a bit confused himself. Then, he smiled. He flicked ash onto Rhys’s damned floor, before taking a drag from the cigarette. “What’s wrong with you, princess? Have a bad dream?”

“Why am I naked in your b-bed- oh god, did we- We didn’t-? Wait that’s my bed? What happened?! Why are you smoking in my fucking suite?!”

“You’re the one who begged for it, you little slut.”

“WHAT?!” Rhys...reluctantly checked his Echo Eye, which recorded everything, all the time. He...heard his own words, and his cheeks darkened. He scrambled up and ignored the sticky, sore sensation in his ass. “I-uh, have to…” He gathered his clothes, hastily yanking them on. He was sure his shirt was backward, but it hardly mattered. “Have to go.”

“Bet atlas stocks are gonna love this!” Jack crooned behind him, following him. Rhys practically fled Jack to one of the executive bathrooms, locking it. He took several deep breaths and waited a good half hour to make sure the man was gone. 

And the stocks did love it. 

In the following weeks, they were better than ever. Rhys took it as a win. And he definitely was never, ever, never, ever getting drunk around Handsome Jack again. Ever.


End file.
